


Harry Potter and the March of the Damned

by defiasstone2



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: F/M, Master of Death (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:27:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25066888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defiasstone2/pseuds/defiasstone2
Summary: Weary of dealing with Wizarding World after the deaths of his closest friends and the Hypocrisy of those he had 'saved', Harry Potter uses a ritual to travel somewhere else. Though he hopes the travel will help fill the emptiness he feels in his soul, the yearning for something to help him feel 'complete', Harry will find that Grim Darkness awaits, and there is only War.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Harry Potter and the March of the Damned

**The Chamber of Secrets, Hogwarts, 10 years after the Battle of Hogwarts**

**Harry Potter, 'The Man Who Conquered Death'**

"Are you sure you want to do this Harry?" With a world weariness of a man at least thirty years his senior, Harry Potter shrugged non-committedly before looking over at his best friend Hermione, or the portrait of her at any rate.

His mop of messy black hair from his childhood was now a ponytail that reached his upper back, partially as it made controlling the infamous 'Potter hair' easier, but mostly because it meant he didn't have to cut it as often.

Standing at five foot seven inches, Harry had at least fleshed out a little since his teenage years, even if he hadn't been able to fix the stunted growth the Dursleys had inflicted upon him. Two long red scars separated by a couple of inches, made all the more obvious by his almost white complexion, traced from the right hand side of his jawline down to his collar.

"Not like I've a lot left to do here Hermione. If it wasn't for you making a portrait after we killed Riddle, I wouldn't even have you left. You did tell me on the Horcrux hunt that 'leaving a man alone with his scars isn't healthy'." His verbatim quote had Hermione wince slightly, her face twitching into a sad smile as she gestured out of the window.

"You know they will keep looking for you, even after you've gone? The 'Master of Death' and 'The Man Who Conquered', though I suppose... We didn't really conquer anything in the end did we?" Hermione trailed off for a moment, face twisting into a bitter frown as she looked at the books of the Hogwarts Library, leaving Harry to fill the void even as he continued passing magic into the massive runic array he had set up in the Room of Requirement.

"Just as no-one knows where I buried you, or Ron, or..." Ginny's name faltered on his tongue, each and every precious memory he had of the youngest Weasley passing through his mind, eyes moistening for a moment before he steeled himself once more.

"It will be one last great prank, that will have people searching for centuries in the hopes they get their hands on one of these three artifacts. Maybe I will even make it into a storybook someday..." Hermione snorted and with a wave of her hand summoned a book to her that she waved in his direction.

"You're already in story books Harry, I am surprised you somehow managed to miss the row dedicated to you and the stories of your childhood whilst we were at Hogwarts. Though, given the shit we went through to try and save the 'Wizarding World', we did have bigger things on our minds most of the time." Squinting through his large rimmed glasses, reinforced and enchanted with several sets of spells and traits, Harry could just about make out the title of the book in Hermione's hand.

'The Boy Who Lived and the Wicked Witch', something that made him scoff and quite glad that he had missed that particular section of the library, it was bad enough that there were at least 6 Harry's in every year of Hogwarts classes... .

"Now, you are going to try and pull a Merlin and disappear without a trace? After ten years of bloodying the noses of those in the Wizarding World that tried to take power and abuse others, caring neither for Lords of the so called Light or Dark? I think you will make the story books Grim Reaper, just not as the hero that I know you are..."

Contrary to popular belief, the Pureblood dogma didn't just go away with the death of Voldemort, just like it hadn't after the end of the First War, nor was it simply in the UK that the Wizarding World had dark depths hiding the monsters waiting to prey upon the weak. Harry found himself understanding Dumbledore more and more as he dealt with the bureaucracy and partisan politics that many of the 'pureblood-lite' members of Wizarding Society resorted to.

He had never had a craving for glory and power, so the political games and lobbying exhausted him far worse than any battle or other form of activity. So instead he took to the field more often than not, his growing magical power far eclipsing what it had been even at the end of the war against Voldemort.

But not all of the Wizards who opposed Harry and what he was doing directly in combat, instead attacking him and his friends through subtler and more murderous means. Where Dumbledore became a figurehead, Harry eventually decided to be more… proactive in his way of dealing with the worst of Wizarding society.

"One person's hero is another's villain, don't worry about it Hermione, it's not as if what they think matters to me anymore. Now, that looks to be enough power, so if you don't mind..." With an exasperated sigh his closest remaining friend put away her current book and wagged a finger in his direction.

"Fine, shrink me down, but if you get us killed Potter..." With a flick of the Elder Wand the portrait was reduced back down to the size it was originally, easily able to fit in his pocket and allow him to continue with what was probably the most foolish thing he had ever done.

Merlin, contrary to popular belief, hadn't died/been imprisoned/whatever else people claimed happened to him after the fall of King Arthur. Instead he had, for the lack of a better word, gotten bored of the other wizards who tried to hail him as a god. He had retreated from the public view for almost 200 years, before eventually trying out some theoretical magic he had devised himself.

How did Harry know this? Because Merlin had in fact been the one to tutor the Hogwarts Founders and help them found their school. Though he had insisted that he never be mentioned publicly in any form, probably because of the already ridiculous myths that surrounded his name by that point.

Thankfully Slytherin was every bit of the consummate scholar that Ravenclaw was claimed to be, making meticulous notes of every piece of work that the Founder's had helped Merlin work on. This meant that when Merlin announced his intentions, to try and find a new dimension and to travel to it as part of a 'Grand Escape', all of their trials and attempt notes were kept in the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry found these notes after retreating to the Chamber of Secrets, in his own attempt to escape from the viciousness and fickleness that was the Wizarding World. To some, he was the solution to each and every little problem they had to deal with, and to others he was the antichrist to their ideals and traditions. And, to all the 'Boy-Who-Lived', the 'Vanquisher of Voldemort' not Harry Potter. Harry had had enough of that particular set of pedestals to last several lifetimes, so solitude and peace were far more preferable.

He had spent 3 months revamping the entirety of the Chamber of Secrets, making sure to uncover every little secret and surprise left by the Founders and Slytherin's descendents, before adding some of his own as well.

The walls, once dank and covered in moss and lichen, were now covered in paintings and tapestries. Many of these were valuable relics he had found whilst researching and cataloguing the contents of the Room of Requirement. After the deaths of his best friend and loved ones, it wasn't like he had much else to distract himself with, so he spent his time learning all that he could. An attempt to fill the strange lack of purpose he felt deep within his soul, like something was missing and calling to him from a great distance, the barest whisper on the wind that he heard late at night just before falling into sleep.

It was only when he found himself walking the halls of Hogwarts on his way to get food, under his invisibility cloak of course, Harry found himself failing to recognise any of those he flitted and shifted between. Even the teachers were almost entirely unfamiliar, many of them retiring after the battle of Hogwarts or in the years that had followed.

It was then that Harry chose this final course of action. Powerful artefacts and Relics, which he could see all too easily falling into the wrong hands, were 'liberated' from museums, the Ministry and other areas of import. Those that he could were now stored in the heavily enchanted and expanded trunks that he now carried on his person, each one containing more than any Gringotts Vault could hope to contain.

The chances of the ritual working were about 30%, and even then Harry had no control over where the ritual would take him, all he would be able to do was hang on for dear life and wait to see what happened. But he was okay with that. After all, as Albus Dumbledore had said to him almost half a decade before, this was just his next great adventure...

There was a flash of light as the runes activated, the wind rushing and swirling through the area like a miniature hurricane, magical fluctuations disrupting wards and activating all sorts of obscure enchanted items throughout the UK.

And in the next moment Harry Potter, Master of Death and Shadow of Vengeance, was gone...

!"£$%^&*()_+

_**The Imperial Heroes 'Archive'** _ **, Tomb World of Solemnace, 999.M41**

**Trayzn the Infinite, Necron Overlord and 'Archaeovist' of the Solemnace Galleries**

"That dratted bell!" Trayzn was beyond furious as his consciousness returned to his true 'body', not that he considered the shell of Necrodermis he had been 'gifted' during the rite of bio-transference a true body for his form.

That marked the twelfth toll, of both the bell and the damage it was unleashing on his 'museum', and the fourth of his dupe bodies that had been destroyed in his attempts to stop the damn thing. Whilst the majority of his mind raged at the disruption of what had become his 'unlife's' work, the scientist within Trayzn was fascinated by the efficiency of the bell's destruction of his dupes, as well as the other impacts it was having on Solemnace.

But such a fascination was a mere momentary distraction for the Overlord, shifting his mind to controlling his swarms of scarabs that were doing their best to categorise the damage that was being done through his exhibits and try to repair the damage before the next accursed tolling. Each toll of the bell had a smaller gap than the last, meaning Trayzn had less than 5 standard minutes before the cursed thing would ring again.

And if that wasn't bad enough, his scarabs were reading a substantial breach in one of the high security vaults next to this one, and such was the size of his collection it took even one of Trazyn's mental prowess to realise exactly what it was he had been storing in there. The alien screeches followed by an inhuman roar that shook the very ground he was stood on made such mental cataloguing much easier, though even as the nearest group of scarabs were torn apart with a bestial fury Trazyn couldn't help but let his frustration get the better of him for a moment.

"Is this because I took your namesake's bones? Or have the Old Gods decided to wait until now to ruin my life's work?" Trazyn realised he was talking to an inanimate object, but he needed to vent at something, even as he undid the stasis bindings on the Imperial forces he had placed in his 'Fall of Tyran' exhibit.

Unfortunately, while he had intended for it to be an exhibit on a massive scale, with replica Imperial defenses that matched the last defensive outpost on Tyran correct to the last detail, Trazyn knew that such a 'sacrifice' wouldn't be enough to stop the gathered Tyranids from breaking out. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, even with the several hundred Tyranid Organisms he had 'borrowed' from one of the smaller splinter fleets after the Battle of Macragge. But the second toll of the bell had forced his entire army back into Stasis sleep, and he hadn't had time to even try and reverse it yet.

Even as he tried to think of what other exhibits he could sacrifice to stem the tide, even as the sounds of the primative human weapons began to fire alongside the roaring and the screaming, the _wretched bell_ swung once more!

Trazyn couldn't help but flinch slightly as the Bell of Saint Gerstahl, which was barely larger than a Necron Destroyer if he had thought to dismount the damn thing, reached the apex of its swing and careened downwards, it's doleful clanging sound reverberating throughout the entirety of his halls. However, unlike the previous twelve tolls, this toll didn't seem to do any damage, despite the few working devices in the vicinity of the bell overloaded due to the _massive_ energy spike they registered.

Shifting his consciousness into the last of his dupe bodies he had in this area of the exhibit, Trazyn was surprised at the feelings of caution and apprehension that warred with his curiosity. If the damn bell hadn't used that power destructively… what exactly had it done?

Stepping into the area that contained the bell, doing his best to ignore the 'feeling' of coolant that came up to the middle of his lower leg, Trazyn was surprised to find that only one thing had changed in the room, if you ignored the destruction caused by the previous tolls of the bell of course.

Stood in front of the bell, facing away from the Necron Lord for now, was a human male. He wasn't impressive to look at, in fact he was smaller than nearly all of the 'exhibit models' that Trazyn had collected from various points within the Imperium, both in terms of height and girth. But Trazyn was not foolish enough to discard such a potential threat on something as simple as their size.

In his collection he had more than a thousand of the abhumans that the Imperium referred to as Squats, most of whom were utilised in his diorama based on _The Fall of Imbach_. And though it had been ten thousand years, Trazyn still remembered their strength and stubbornness.

"How curious…" The human began to speak, it's attention entirely on the Bell even as Trazyn's internal translator identified the language as Gothic, though not the abominations of the language that were recognised as 'Higher' and 'Lower' Gothic now.

This was the original language, which he had only seen spoken in the years before the Imperium's rise on a few of the still culturally advanced worlds that existed away from Terra.

And then, before Trazyn could decide whether to introduce himself or simply capture the human for his collection, the human raised his hand and waved a wooden stick of all things at the Bell in a complicated gesture. Then the bell _shrunk_ , dropping from its mooring as it decreased to something that could easily be carried by the mysterious human, who seemed to look at his newest acquisition in a manner that Trazyn recognised as his own insatiable curiosity.

"And who are you, thief, to think that you can take an item from my collection so brazenly?" Despite the desire to learn more about the human before him, and more importantly why the bell had expended so much energy to bring him here, Trazyn was a collector first and foremost.

Readying the Emphatic Obliterator, confident in the fact that this human would not be able to withstand its power, Trazyn decided he could put aside working out why the bell had chosen now of all times to toll. At least in it's smaller form, the Bell would be easier to dispose of, just in case it decided to ring once more…

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: And so, my mind likes to distract me once more with a new idea. This one is simple enough, the idea of MOD Harry Potter entering the 40K universe following a similar start that I used for the HP/X-Com crossover.
> 
> There are differences, this Harry is older, more experienced and more bloodied, which he needed to be if he is going to survive more than 27 hours in the 40 K universe.
> 
> Now, why is he interested in the Bell of Saint Gerstahl? What impact is he going to have on the events of the Fall of Cadia (if it falls at all)? Did the Bell ring out to predict the success of the 13th Black Crusade, or is it's 'announcement' about something more subtle, but more malevolent?
> 
> Most importantly, SQUATS?
> 
> So many questions, so little time.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this, I had to get it out of my head if I was going to be able to write anything else.
> 
> Drop a review and let me know!
> 
> Defias out


End file.
